


1009

by Lacanthrope



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Gen, Usual dose of Lacanthrope's doom and gloom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 09:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacanthrope/pseuds/Lacanthrope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early morning waking can be applied to a lot of things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1009

The day had been going so well.

Instead of the harsh cracks of his alarm clock, Keeler had awoken three minutes before the programmed sound to darkness and Encke’s soft breathing. It had seemed like an eternal piece of the day, but he hadn’t been foolish enough to assume it was. It had only been three minutes.

Then the clock interface had lit up and he had shut it off before Encke could growl something in his sleep.

And even when he had looked at himself in the mirror the fine lines around his eyes hadn’t seemed as thick as they normally were. His hands hadn’t even trembled as they turned off the tap and rested on the counter.

Then when he had gone for breakfast, for the first time in too long the coffee hadn’t tasted like regret and the food had tasted like something from home, wherever that had been.

By the time he had arrived at the lab, he had walked in with a smile on his lips. There hadn’t been anyone there to see it and that had been another excellent thing. Nothing but screens of numbers and no pleasant faces he would have to forget too soon. Abel had finished a couple of the calibrations and when Keeler had looked at the calculations, all he had seen were combinations of numbers and symbols he had never even considered. Poor kid was too smart for his own good.

No Colterons, no fatalities, nothing but a productive work day.

Everything had been going so well, so Keeler had to wonder why he was now waking up on cold tiles.

It must have been the buzz of the lights, the same buzz that followed any silence on this ship, which woke him. It wasn’t necessarily waking, that implied some form of sleep, which included dreaming. There were never any dreams, and some part of him was glad. All his dreams had too many faceless names clawing away at the dark. It was more like becoming aware. Like nothing existed while his eyes were closed and it was only when he opened them that anything was actually there. 

Like the soft light that made him blink a little too slowly or the constant trickle of tap water somewhere behind him. He shifted upwards, wincing from the sharp pain gnawing into the side of his head. His fingers floated up and brushed against the small bump underneath his mass of hair. Luckily his hair was thick enough that even Encke wouldn’t notice.

Keeler wrapped his fingers around the edge of the counter and tried to haul his body up. His arms ached and it felt like he was pulling himself up a cliff face. He lowered himself back down, sucked in a deep breath, and tried again. Encke would have a good laugh about his if he saw. Keeler could almost hear his voice in his ears. _You know, being able to do a chin-up is a life-saving skill._

Keeler leaned heavily over the counter and paused for a moment to draw in another deep breath. It would only take a few more moments before his legs stopped shaking and he could stand properly. Moments he could have used for the flight plans he had waiting on his desk or figuring out Abel’s calculations. Some anger rose in his chest but he stamped it down before it made him too lightheaded.

He retracted his hands from the counter and only swayed slightly. Good enough.

The tap was still pouring out a steady stream of water so he splashed a few handfuls on his face. The chill didn’t bother him as much as it used to but a nauseating shiver still ran over his skin. He reached for a towel and rubbed his face harder than he should have.

“Keeler?”

He sighed into the towel. Encke was back early.

“Everything alright in there?”

Keeler removed his face from the coarse, over-bleached, over-washed fabric and dropped the towel onto the counter. His hands hovered over it, trembling a little too much so he folded the towel into a neat square and placed it back in its place on the counter. He caught his reflection staring back at him and watched the fine lines around his eyes grow a little more. 

“Everything is fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this instead of absorbing Berry's ecocultural model of the mind and finishing Pretty Lights. Not even sorry.  
> *scuttles back into writing cave*


End file.
